


Beauty always comes with dark thoughts

by dragon_rider



Category: The Lord of the Rings (Movies), The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, BAMF Arwen Undómiel, Character Study, F/M, POV Arwen Undómiel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-11
Updated: 2021-01-11
Packaged: 2021-03-15 18:47:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,649
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28693455
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dragon_rider/pseuds/dragon_rider
Summary: She would happily sacrifice eternity if it meant leaving a bigger imprint on history than she already had. She wanted her own chapters in it, entire passages where she wasn’t a secondary character but the protagonist of her own story, the queen with her own pawns and knights to move however she pleased.
Relationships: Aragorn | Estel/Arwen Undómiel
Comments: 3
Kudos: 16





	Beauty always comes with dark thoughts

**Author's Note:**

  * For [themarrowmeal](https://archiveofourown.org/users/themarrowmeal/gifts).



> Thank you, [themarrowmeal](https://cumheist69.tumblr.com/), for the commission! I hope you like it.
> 
> Special thanks to my sister and [elder-flower](https://archiveofourown.org/users/elder_flower/pseuds/elder-flower) for being my lovely betas <3

Known for her beauty and her beauty alone for her whole life, Arwen was tired of being reduced to her perfect features, her alabaster skin and dark hair, her grey eyes like a clear night sky. No one seemed to notice she held wisdom and strength in them, that she could see through the ages like her grandmother, and she’d learned that hiding her true self was convenient for her ambitions.

She’d rather have a crown for a few hundred years than dull immortality with no real power, eternal years of being the Evenstar and nothing else, existing in the shadow of the Lady of the Galadhrim and the Vice-regent and Herald of Gil-Galad, always being compared to the Princess of Doriath.

Her father was right, her love for Aragorn would not last forever; it would wither and die, but then again so would Elessar, while Arwen, as Queen of the Reunited Kingdom, would prevail and thrive for much longer.

It would be difficult, to help her beloved through the distance for as long as they were apart but she appreciated the challenge: it would prove she was deserving of the title she sought. It didn’t matter that no one, not even Aragorn, would know of her part in his victory.

She had seen many scenarios in which he perished. Sometimes he was alone, others he died along with the Fellowship of the Ring. In every possible future in which he was no more, the dark forces of the Eye won and decimated Middle Earth, so it made no matter when his companions followed Elessar to the Halls of Mandos.

Arwen knew she had to keep a close eye on him. She would lose everything if he didn’t fulfill his role as king. The romance that had been born between them had not surprised her: many people fell in love with her, often at first glance. Elessar had not been an exception, except in the feelings he had awakened in her. He was her means to escape a life condemned to live under the heavy weight of her family, her way of building her own legacy. Their children would be the new rulers of the realm of men, and survive them both.

She would happily sacrifice eternity if it meant leaving a bigger imprint on history than she already had. She wanted her own chapters in it, entire passages where she wasn’t a secondary character but the protagonist of her own story, the queen with her own pawns and knights to move however she pleased.

The Lord of Rivendell thought she would die of a broken heart, once Elessar left the land of the living. Elrond ignored her strong will, for only weaklings succumbed to such a thing, and she would never embrace anything that made her crumble, nor would she fade. The bond between her and Elessar was true, yet Arwen knew how to use even something as fragile as love to her advantage. 

Their love would be the romance of the ages. They would be the paragons of king and queen, something that Beren and Lúthien had not been. They would surpass them, be more at last. She looked forward to directing Elessar’s hand in matters of state. She knew him so well, the mortal man with elven blood (though diluted) running through his veins, that he would not see what was happening until it was done, if at all.

She’d spent a long time envying humans and their freedom, their need for constant action. They lived for such a short period that they had to live every day like it was the last, like it was the only day that mattered, and that was the very opposite of the quiet, perpetual apathy of elves.

Arwen had lived over sixty human lives already, and yet she felt she had done nothing with any of them. Immortality and greatness only went hand in hand on two occasions: if you were born into greatness, or if you could fight your way to the top during wartime. 

She had been born into greatness, but it was not quite enough for her. Her potential had been wasted for so very long, she did not care what schemes she had to concoct to have more, to be more.

She could fight too, as she had shown when she’d saved Frodo and Sam from the Nazgûl. But warriors more skilled than her had died in battle, and she had too many plans for her future to risk that fate. She’d let Elessar fight and protect him with her strength from a safe distance, and then she would claim the throne that belonged to her.

The Evenstar that she had gifted to her love warned her whenever he was in trouble. Arwen would then find a source of water and call for the power of her ancestors so she could look upon him and protect him. 

He did not need her help wielding the Flame of the West, so whenever it was needed she redirected enemy blows and arrows away from him, making sure he would survive through the heat of every battle.

When Elessar fell in Rohan, she felt what could only be true fear. It took all of her abilities to pull him out of the slippery but strong grip of the river, and to wake him up after he’d lost consciousness. She wondered, as she let herself fall onto a settee, faint after her efforts, whether Aragorn had truly seen her, or if he would think she was merely a dream his mind had conjured to save him.

Either way, it did not matter. It had worked. He was alive, though he no longer had the Evenstar with him. She could not feel the enchanted jewel resting on his chest anymore. It had been him losing it that had alerted her and allowed her to act. If the Valar wanted her to succeed, they would see that her gift returned to its rightful owner.

Elessar needed rest after his brush with death, yet she knew he would not lay down until his body was forced to drop. He was a hero, through and through, and that meant his life mattered little to him compared to doing what was right and saving others. It was only her persuasion that had convinced him to seize his birthright, both Andúril and the throne of Gondor and Arnor, her perseverance that had him following his path as High King of the Dúnedain now. He was a selfless soul and would have done it only to rid Middle Earth of the Dark Lord, parting again after his difficult victory. He feared the fate of Isildur too much to want such power for himself, and Arwen had pledged to him many times that she would always be there to keep him away from it.

She spent those terrible hours, blind to her beloved's fate, pacing back and forth in her rooms. It was during those hours that her father came for her, attempting to convince her to part from Middle Earth for everlasting green and nothing else. He could threaten her with the doom of mortality, but Arwen understood that was the price to pay for what she desired.

Stubborn, she remained in her vigil. Elrond could leave without her. She didn't want what he was offering her. Life was but a speck of dust in the wind to her; she wanted much more than to be simply alive.

She felt as if she'd been reborn when the Evenstar carried the heartbeat of Elessar to her. She'd been blessed by the Valar in many ways, and again They were showing Their favor towards her.

"He lives," Arwen countered her father, her grey eyes shining like the brightest star in the sky, a joyful yet dangerous smile gracing her lips. "You are mistaken. He has not lost, nor shall he. He will take what is his."  _ And give it to me. _

Elrond recoiled from her, staring at her as if it was the very first time he'd ever seen her.

She smirked, feeling power running through her, right to the very tips of her fingers. She wondered if she looked as mighty as she felt, or if she just appeared to have been gripped by madness, that madness that was so common in mortals and that her father had been so scared of.

"I don't belong to you! Or to our people!" she screamed, suddenly remembering his speech with which he’d dare push Aragorn away from her. "I belong to myself!  _ Cin gar- baw estel, adar, but nin Estel na- cuin _ !"

Her father had the grace not to hide the aid Rivendell and Lothlorien were sending to Rohan. He did scowl at seeing her donning a cloak and quiver and taking up a bow, ready for combat, but it only took one glare for him to remember her words, her choice.

The journey from her home to Helm’s Deep was long and relentless, though she did not tire before battle, not truly, for her goal was clear: to give Estel back some of his namesake, so he could save the world of men.

Their embrace was brief and their kiss chaste upon their reunion. Elessar looked at her with both happiness and dread as they were surrounded by men, elves and a single dwarf.

“You and father need to learn to stop making decisions for me,” she whispered over his lips, caressing his stubble with her fingertips before resting her hand on top of the Evenstar. “Do you trust me, my love?”

“Of course,” he breathed back. “It’s the enemy I don’t trust,  _ meleth nin _ .”

If she spent more time pushing danger away from him than actually fighting, well, that was for her to know.

They won the Battle of Helm’s Deep and they would win more still.

**Author's Note:**

>  **Sindarin translation**  
>  Cin gar- baw estel, adar, but nin Estel na- cuin: You have no hope, but my hope is alive.  
> Meleth nin: my love.


End file.
